


Definition of Beauty

by zanni_scaramouche



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Courting, Allusions to underage, Alpha! Louis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Feel-good, First Time, Fluff, Football | Soccer Player Louis Tomlinson, High School sports, M/M, Non Explicit, Oblivious Louis, Omega! Harry, Rut, Scenting, Soft Harry, Teen Romance, Virgin Harry, Virgin Louis, adoration, heat - Freeform, lightest of angst, soft louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27850702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanni_scaramouche/pseuds/zanni_scaramouche
Summary: “Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.“I’d rather study you.”They both blink, startled by the slip.“With you. Studywithyou,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’tstoplooking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 65
Kudos: 359
Collections: OmegaHarryFicFest





	Definition of Beauty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writing_practice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_practice/gifts).



> Written for OHFF 2020 Prompt #2
> 
> This fic is for my bb ;) because she hates how much time I spent on this and _not_ on something else 👀 shhh all will be revealed soon ( /someday in the far future )
> 
> Never dabbled in A/B/O before, so this was definitely something new! Got my feet wet with this fic to ready myself for my second OHFF fic (Watch for it on Jan 15!) Been a hot second since I was in HS. Please forgive my attempt to imitate it, I’m sure much has changed in my absence. Also, North AmeriCanada because the UK school system is one of the greatest mysteries of this world. 
> 
> The Epilogue contains Allusions to Underage Sex - it is the lead up to their first time.  
> Please do not read if that makes you uncomfortable. It is not explicit, but it gets close.

Louis nearly drops the ball when he gets a look at who passed it to him. 

“Cheers,” he manages after staring for a moment too long. 

Harry gives him a confused quirk of his lip and turns back to whatever it is he was reading before the footie ball had soared into his space. Louis takes the cue and turns back to the game, throwing in the ball to Niall on the wing. 

The rest of the game Louis’ eyes stray to watch the boy on a patch of lush grass not too far from the field lines. His gangly limbs are sprawled on his discarded jumper, a flash of colour in sky blue overalls and a baby pink shirt that keeps drawing Louis’ eyes no matter how many times he trips over his own cleats. 

It’s not like this is the first time Louis’ seen the younger boy. He’s been in the school talent show the last two years, pulling the loudest clap from the audience with his melodic voice. Given their natural inclination for arts and expression, no one was surprised when he walked in after spring break trailing the light sweetness of omega. The buzz around school had been about Callum, a kid from the year above Louis who hadn’t presented by the time he graduated.

“Oi! Tommo!” 

Louis whips his head away from the soft parting of the clueless omega’s lips and narrowly gets control of the ball before it can slip out of reach, abruptly pulled back into the game. 

His team wins. Louis with the first goal but feeling pretty useless for the second half, yet they still pat him on the back and cheer his name in the celebratory chanting. A few of the younger kids even call him Alpha and it takes a second to realize they’re referring to _him._

Last summer he went through a very undramatic presentation of Alpha, never something he’d been concerned over. He’d have been just as happy to be beta or omega as he was when his first rut hit. It’s all over hyped if you ask him, because not a lot changed if he’s honest. If you don’t count his dick.

That did change. That changed a _lot._

“Looking for scouts?” Niall ruffles a heavy hand through Louis’ sweaty hair as they head towards the locker. The two Alphas tussle until they fall easily in step with each other. “Don’t worry, they’ll be putting your name at the top of the list.” 

Louis rolls his eyes and tackles Niall sideways now that he’s off guard and not expecting it. They won’t be able to do this much longer, or so everyone keeps telling them with the two of them being Alphas. Not while they learn how to control themselves and the hormonal urges that’ll supposedly make them want to tear each other’s throats out. It’s a bit ridiculous to think Louis could ever want to maul his best friend, but also real fucking terrifying to know how possible it is. 

Neither can count how many times they’ve heard the growls between two upperclassmen who used to be friends echo in the school halls. So after they dust off and Niall throws an arm over his shoulder, Louis leans into it instead of setting off another round of trouble, both of them savouring the touch a little longer than they might have a few months ago. The fear of leaving the simplicity of childhood has made them clingy. 

Louis spares a glance over his shoulder at the boy in the grass. He’s right where Louis last saw him, laying on his tummy with a bright bottle of nail polish sending out faint fumes of varnish. It’s too far to see what colour. 

Louis’ still itching to know what shade it was when he’s walking through the hallways the next day, navigating his way to English class. He also wants to know why no one was sitting next to someone like Harry. The boy seems nice, not that Louis has ever really spoken to him, but something makes him think he must be. No one wearing that shade of pink could be mean. Or was that the premise of 'Mean Girls'? Lottie made him watch that a few weeks ago but he’s already forgotten. 

He can’t forget when he’s loitering around the classroom door waiting for his teacher to discuss his extra credit project and the boy himself is there. Right there, hovering around an open locker like it holds the answers to the universe. 

Louis' focus is absorbed by him, the gentle tap of Harry’s fingers on the metal door and the sassy angle to his hips as he leans on one foot. Movement draws Louis’ gaze to a pair of upperclassmen passing. One of them gives Harry’s backside a blatant predatory look before nudging his companion and tilting his head with a wink. The two share shark smiles before rounding the corner.

Harry’s completely oblivious to the entire interaction, his focus still on the inside of his magazine cut-out plastered locker while he searches for something. Louis’ fists clench. He wants to shove the two strangers already out of sight, imagines it’d be sickeningly satisfying to pin them down and lecture them about being appropriate. 

“Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis startles at the stern call of his surname. His English teacher stands in the doorway with an impatient tilt to her eyebrows and crossed arms. Louis rubs the back of his heated neck, embarrassed by the realization his name has been called more than once. 

He follows her into the room before he punches something. Or someone. 

The next time Louis sees him, the boy is studying at an empty table in the library. His feet make the decision for him. Instead of taking his habitual seat by the window, Louis plops down across from the boy. The eyes that glance up are glowing emeralds that knock the breath right from Louis’ chest. 

“Hello,” the boy says in a voice deeper than expected and slow like honey. 

“Hi,” is all Louis has the ability to say. 

He didn’t plan this, and unlike usual, his quick wit has left him high and dry. Somehow that doesn’t matter, because Harry’s cheeks stain like strawberry juice and it’s only because those bright eyes return to the book splayed open on the table that Louis realizes he should really open his own. He fumbles through getting a random book from his bag out in a hardcover clatter and flips to a page without looking at it. 

He’s too busy studying Harry. 

The delicate curve of his outrageously pink lips like he’s just sucked on sweet candy, the hint of confusion on his expressive face, the free flowing curls that softly fall around his ears. There’s more to him than that, Louis knows. Has seen in the halls and on the field as Harry walks to class or stands in the lunch line. He’s gangly limbs and a goofy laugh and crooked teeth. Not perfect, but beautiful.

Louis watches in rapture as dimples press into the soft corners of Harry’s growing smile until he’s caught, hooked like a fish when Harry’s laughing eyes sparkle at him. 

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too. 

“I’d rather study you.” 

They both blink, startled.

“With you. Study _with_ you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?” 

Harry prods a soft cheek with the backside of his pen in thought. Louis wants to kiss him right where it meets his skin, feel the soft warmth on his lips and- fuck, he’s really messed up if he’s jealous of a fucking _pen._

“Okay,” Harry hums easily. 

They spend the rest of the period hunched over a book and Louis only knows what it’s about because he’d clung to every word Harry spoke in that syrupy voice of his as he walked Louis through medieval history.

Harry’s in the library the next day, and the next. Louis starts learning, both about the feudal system and facts like the name of Harry’s favourite nail polish is ‘lucky lavender’ and he ducks his head in humility when Louis doesn’t believe him about his lips being naturally pink. 

Louis’ thinking about them as he’s on the bus home a week later. He’s in an aisle seat near the back with Niall twisted beside him and joking with their other mates. Harry’s near the front, gazing through the window with an earbud in and a small bob to his head along to whatever he’s listening to. 

Louis wants to know what’s in his headphones, what makes Harry smile so fondly, what makes his body move in such a rhythm. Maybe if Louis knew he could learn a thing or two. 

It mystifies him still. How the seat next to Harry remains empty, when he’s so clearly brighter than the sun with a gravitational force to rival the earth's core. 

Niall's elbow digs into the soft spot between ribs . Louis scowls before catching on, this is his stop. He scrambles up with his bags just in time to spill into the aisle and holler for the driver to keep the doors open. He laughs good naturedly with his mates at his own flail.

“Gonna need a full astronaut suit for the amount of spacing you’re doing,“ Oli calls out. 

“Yeah, you’s just jealous one of us can moonwalk and it ain't you.“ Louis retorts.

The lads laugh and Louis trips backwards until he’s off the bus, so he can keep Harry in sight until the moment the doors shut and he’s left in the dust.

Louis' laying on his back on the bleachers the next day at lunch. The clouds overhead are pure white and fluffy as they drift sleepily along the sky above without a care for direction. 

He wants to know what music makes Harry feel, what it makes him think of, if he ever listens to a song and thinks of Louis. It feels like Louis can’t ever stop thinking about Harry. Not since he saw him by the field, and he can’t think of what’s changed to make his mind latch onto the younger boy but it’s like: he’ll be eating and wonder if Harry likes pickles, or he’ll see his sister’s scarves laying around and think Harry might have one just like it, or he’ll be in the shower and… he just _can’t_ stop thinking about him. 

The focus of Louis’ daydreams appears upside down and backlit by the golden glow of the sun, haloed like a rosy cheeked angel.

“Your fly’s down.” 

Louis springs up in a panic. They avoid bonking heads only by the quickness of Harry’s reflexes to pull out of the way, giggling like a maniac as Louis yanks his zipper up. He sits on the bleachers proper, Harry on the row beneath him leaning on his forearms. 

A warm breeze wraps them in the last memories of a summer on its way out. A click goes off in Louis’ spine, a piece slotting into a place where he didn’t know something was missing.

“You smell good,” Louis blurts, only the slightest embarrassed about how that might sound. 

He doesn’t mean it in the intimate way you see in films between courting couples, you can only really smell someone’s natural scent when you’re up close and personal anyway. Harry does smell good, even from a few feet away. Something floral and sweet. 

“Gemma got it for me,” Harry surmises and Louis intuits he’s talking about perfume.

The image of soft mist gently caressing Harry’s bare skin makes Louis’ nails itch. Harry’s sister must know what Harry’s omega scent is, would have picked something that complimented it. Louis’ not jealous, but he’s not not jealous. 

“Here.” 

The crinkly foil of a chocolate bar is shoved into Louis’ hands. There’s a small tear in the wrapper and a mouse sized bite taken out of the corner. He looks at Harry’s stained cheeks, the boy's eyes impossible to see given the way Harry’s adamantly looking down at fussing hands detangling headphones. 

“I didn’t like it,” Harry mumbles. 

In bold splashes of colour, affection blooms in Louis’ chest like a springtime garden. Paying careful attention he peels back the wrapper and puts his mouth directly over the bite where Harry’s lips had once been. He wonders if Harry’s tongue would melt in his mouth like this. 

The moment overwhelms him. Tears prickle Louis’ eyes. Sometimes something can make you so happy it turns you sad, already nostalgic for a moment that hasn’t ended yet. When Harry offers him an earbud, Louis takes it mutely. Timeless notes of songs his mother dances to in the kitchen drift through Louis’ head, Harry gently rocking along to the beat, and it fits so well there could have never been anything else Harry would listen to. 

Together they sit in the perfect sort of silence, connected by thin white wires and _Rumours._ The clouds drift overhead. The sun heats their skin. 

They’re still sharing headphones for the bus ride home. Louis sits in the front seat with Harry a warm comfort beside him as the ripening gold fields pass by in a blur. He misses his stop on purpose so he can walk with Harry all the way to his doorstep, their sides brushing because of how short the headphone string is but not quite touching with purpose. 

Louis looks at Harry’s hand and thinks Harry would probably let him hold it if he tried. He doesn’t try. Doesn’t want to ask for forgiveness when he could ask permission first, but his tongue won't make the words come out so he settles for the light rub of their biceps with every other step. 

“You’re the star,” is what Harry tells him while Louis’ out of breath and sweaty. 

There’s mud all over his knees and grass in his hair from the slide he took to catch the ball in the first half, stealing it from an opposing Alpha for a righteous pass to Niall, who flew past the defence for an ultimately winning goal. Louis tousles his hopeless hair to shake as much of the grass from it as he can. 

“Nah, it’s all Niall.” 

Harry cocks a hip to the side, squinting at him through the sunlight. 

“Why didn’t you say you were the captain?” 

Louis shrugs, propping his hands on his hips because fuck, what the fuck is he supposed to do with his hands around pretty omegas?

“Yeah, s’not super serious like. The lads put me in cause they didn’t wanna do the extra chores, y’know what I mean?” He laughs nervously hoping he’s not coming off as neurotic. There’s so much adrenaline in his veins and it’s not from the game.

Harry tilts his head and Louis wants to die. It’s too much. Harry’s just too much. 

They’re in their claimed library table, official with their initials carved into their side-by-side chairs and everything, when Louis’ notebook falls between them. Harry’s the first to grab it while Louis worries about the zipper that’s just broken on his backpack, the teeth all misaligned. 

“Lou,” just the sound of his name, this special name, a name he’s been called by countless voices but has never been so special until this particular one spoke it, makes Louis’ heart double time it’s beat. He mimics the frown of the other boy when he sees the unhappy face. “You aced it.” 

Ah. The notebook in Harry’s hands fell open to his English coursework, the one class Louis’ not failing dismally. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It’s a hundred and ten percent, you got better than perfect,” Harry insists, waving the notebook under his nose.

And that’s the silliest thing the most perfect boy Louis’ ever met could say, even as he jabs a finger towards the tallied mark at the top of the essay. Louis tugs the journal out of Harry’s hands and flips over to the sums crossed through in red. The stern dressing down he’d gotten from his maths teacher about never amounting to anything weighs heavy on his chest and makes it hard to breathe. He manages a weak effort at a smile. 

“Still shite at maths. C’mon, use that head of yours and walk me through pythagorean again.” 

Harry does walk him through it again, but Louis loses focus for most of it because Harry’s still wearing that perfume Louis likes so much and every time he points at something on the page Louis’ thinking more about what the name of his nail polish might be than the thing he’s pointing at. It’s not that Louis doesn’t care what Harry’s saying, cause he does, Christ does he ever, but maths could never tell him the unquantifiable radius of Harry’s curls or the exact coordinates of the beauty mark on his jaw. It wont tell him the rounded sum of times Harry’s listened to the _Queen_ album since Louis recommended it last week and it sure as hell won't tell him the odds of Harry feeling the same pull in his belly as Louis does every minute they’re together. 

Harry answers that for him the next time there’s a home footie game and Louis loses track of time in the showers. They lost this game, it happens, and even though he’s sour about it now Louis knows his mood has more to do with how rough the Alpha check he’d been paired with was than the actual outcome of the game. That’s why he’s got his comfort songs echoing from the tiny phone speaker. 

He stops mid-note when he turns around to see a familiar headful of curls waiting on a bench by the lockers. Hastily Louis whips his towel off the hook and wraps it tight around his middle, thinking with too much effort about how cold and gross the tiles are below his feet to keep anything, _anything,_ else from popping into his mind while he’s in a towel. 

“Wasn’t expecting you, Haz. I might have hurried,” Louis half arse apologises as his hurried feet slap on the floor to his locker. It clangs open and he tosses his silenced mobile into his bag before pulling out fresh clothes. 

“Were you harmonizing Wonderwall?” 

“Wonderwall doesn’t have a harmony,” Louis mumbles while he touches his fringe into place, praying it’s not piecy like he hates. The soft poke of Harry’s toe on his calf makes Louis peer over his shoulder to the devastatingly-soft jumper-wearing boy behind him. 

“It sounded good,” Harry says instead of justifying Louis’ attempt at a misleader. “You’ve got a beautiful voice.” 

“You’re beautiful.” Is what Louis says. Because he means it like he’s never meant anything more and he can’t stand not telling Harry every second of every waking day that he is the definition of beauty. So he says it, because he has to say it. 

Harry’s been nice to him lately, and holding back the side of himself that wants to gloat with the praise Harry’s given him so frivolously has taken its toll on Louis’ control. By now he’s yanked on shorts and a shirt so when he turns around to see Harry blushing something mad at the ground, it doesn’t feel inappropriate to step forward. He steps right to the edge of Harry’s knees, their toes almost touching. Louis uses the gentlest touch he can manage to tilt Harry’s chin up and even the briefest of contact with Harry’s smooth skin is electrifying. 

Those bright starlight eyes meet his and Louis loses the ounce of control he’d had. He ducks in close. Their cheeks brush in the most gentle of embraces as Louis’ nose tickles with the touch of curls behind Harry’s ear, right where the natural scent of him is strongest. Like his voice, Harry’s scent is deeper than anything Louis’ could have expected, something natural and indescribable, incomparable. It’s just the heady scent of _Harry._

Louis’ never scented someone outside his family, it’s an intensely intimate thing he’s never even thought of doing with anyone that didn’t share his last name. Tidal waves crest through his veins, his heart glowing with pure elation at the newfound nirvana. Harry’s hand clinging tightly to his waist yanks Louis back into his bones, the reality of his actions crashing upon his head with a severity that makes him pull back to see Harry’s stunned face. Despite Harry’s shock wide eyes, his hand grips tighter to Louis’ stretched shirt and his body leans forward like he’s chasing after something.

“Alpha,” Harry whispers like it’s something sacred. 

It bursts the bubble. Louis abruptly stumbles away until he collides with the lockers while Harry’s hand hangs in the air from where Louis ripped himself out of its hold. 

“Don’t,” Louis stutters, begs, “don’t call me that.” 

And then he’s grabbed his bag and ripped out of there without a second to spare. His hands fist his bag so tightly the fabric threatens to tear. He can’t erase the image of Harry beneath him, bambi eyes looking up with reverence. 

But unlike any time Louis might have had a fever dream about it, the title upon Harry’s lips struck Louis with the force of a torrential cold shower. Harry is perfection, there was no doubt about it, and the thought of Louis ever trying to be his boyfriend, his Alpha, is absurd. 

Surely every Alpha in the school can see how perfect Harry is, and no doubt they’ll want a chance at courting him. As much as it makes Louis’ blood curdle, he has to let Harry have that chance, to stay open for the Alpha who is better at Maths and doesn't have grass stains on their clothes and never has embarrassing moments like leaving their fly down. Those are the types of Alphas Harry deserves. Louis won't stand in the way of that. 

Louis sits on the bleachers all lunch the next day but Harry doesn’t show up with his tangled headphones and half bitten chocolate like usual. Not that Louis blames him. But then Harry's not at the library either, or sitting on the grass like he’s become known to do during footie practice. Louis still doesn’t blame him, but shite. He misses him. 

When Louis gets on the bus Harry doesn’t peel himself away from his huddle by the window, doesn’t even glance at him. Something ugly and festering takes up residence in Louis' gut. He feels queasy the entire bumping ride through the desolate brown field lands, now barren after the harvest. The rotten feeling gets worse when the moonlight paints his curtains pale like Harry’s skin and the sway of the breeze mimics the lull of Harry’s head as he falls asleep on the bus sometimes and all Louis can smell is delicate flowers lingering over the concentrated scent of Harry he knows from that brief moment they’d been pressed together. 

What happened between them was serious. Louis had crossed a line. They’d never talked about stuff like that, never even mentioned how Louis always put himself between Harry and the road when they walked home and how Harry always had a bite of the chocolate before handing it over on the bleachers. It was the way of things. And now Louis had screwed it all up by abusing the trust Harry had innocently given him. 

The open look of shock on his face is permanent behind Louis’ eyelids, filling him with guilt as he rolls over and groans morosely into his pillow. How stupid, how selfish, how bloody cruel he’d been to take advantage of someone like Harry. Someone with stars woven through their hair and the cosmos in their eyes. Someone who could never be contained to this single galaxy. How foolish it was, then, for the speck of a seed in Louis’ chest to attempt growing something like hope. 

Their marks get posted in the hallway outside the history classroom. People crowd around to find their numbers and it’s a general crush of shoulders and elbows in soft spots. Louis bristles at every touch, impatient to see his results so he can get the fuck away from everyone. What he sees makes his throat close. 

A heavy hand tousles his hair. 

“Only an A for this Alpha,” Niall teases. 

Louis shoves on instinct. A shocked wave grows through the crowd around them as Niall’s shoulders hit the wall with a heavy thud. The surprise in his friend’s face is quick to be replaced by a tense jaw and narrowed eyes. Both of their fists remain clenched at their sides. People are staring, they’ll be spreading rumours about this later and they won’t know to mention how Louis’ heart is shattering under the anger in Niall’s snarl, all they’ll talk about is how they’re the newest pair of Alphas that couldn’t remain friends through the shift. The thought just makes Louis angrier. 

He’s the worst kind of Alpha. The kind that can’t control himself. 

With a frustrated growl he fights against every instinct pressing him forward and turns his back on the lot of them. The only reason he got the score on that test was because of a boy he can’t even look at anymore without suffocating in guilt. He won't be able to look Niall in the eyes for weeks, if ever. He’s not only a shit Alpha, he’s a rubbish human being. 

The thought propels him through the halls until he’s burst out onto the field. The fresh air does nothing to help. The sight of Harry rocking awkwardly on his heels by the bleachers does even less, but Louis’ reached his breaking point of self pity for the day and he can’t stand carrying around the ugly monster of his guilt any longer. 

He veers off from where he’d been heading towards home and meets Harry’s anxious eyes as he draws near. 

“I’m so sorry Haz,” is the first thing Louis says because he means it no matter how worn those words might sound. Louis' fingers tighten over the shoulder straps of his bag. “I shouldn’t have scented you, I’m- I’m a bloody monster for doing that to you.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Harry says gently and Louis’ heart aches. 

“I do! Because you’re intelligent and funny and addicting to be around and-and we aren’t even courting!” 

Harry’s eyes lose their hesitancy as his voice firms with conviction. “I wanted you too.” 

“C- courting or scenting?” Louis stutters, tripping over nothing but the severity of being caught off guard. 

Harry’s adamancy tints pink to the tips of his ears, shy yet determinedly admitting, “Both.” 

“But you can’t!” Louis’ mouth drops, a crack in his chest from the seed that’s winding roots around his ribcage even as he tries to deny it. “You’re so fucking special and I…” He’s nothing. 

“Why wouldn’t I want you to? You’re the sun, Louis.” 

Harry frowns and tilts his head in contemplation like he does when studying or listening to a song for the first time. Louis clings to his eyes in an attempt to understand, watching as Harry’s face morphs into a smile slow like an answer has just dawned on him. 

He shares the revelation before Louis can ask. “You don’t know, but that’s part of what makes you beautiful.”

Louis’ chest balloons with the field of wildflowers within, to the point he believes they must be bursting from his ears and growing through his hair. Harry thinks he’s beautiful. There can be no doubt about it, because Harry wouldn’t tell a lie which means it must be true. Harry thinks he’s beautiful and he wants Louis to court him. 

It’s the impossible becoming solidified into something tangible. 

“Harry,” Louis licks his lips uncertainly, needing the moment to gain his courage because even if it’s all true, which it is because it must be, well even then he has to do it right and ask. ”May I court you?” 

“Depends.” Louis’ eyes bulge, his heart wilting at the single word even though Harry’s eyes sparkle with laughter. Harry could ask him for the moon and at this moment Louis would agree to it. “May I call you Alpha?” 

A pained sound leaves Louis’ collapsing lungs. Harry steps into him, wrapping around Louis’ waist to hold him steady as Louis’ washed over with a crashing wave of everything he’s ever wanted. Every atom of his being urges him forward, to indulge, and yet he still stiffens in Harry’s hold. 

“Want you to scent me, Alpha,” Harry says, because he’s a mind reader and knows the exact words are the perfect key to unlocking Louis’ bones. 

Louis melts. Unrestrained, his instincts guide him into the crease where nothing exists but Harry. 

⋆*+･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*･ﾟ+.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*+･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*･ﾟ+.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Epilogue 

They’ve been courting for almost a year when it happens. The sticky sweet middle of summer where skin peels off of vinyl chairs and rubber melts into asphalt. 

Niall told Louis about this place, although his friend had been more interested in the cute outfits the girls wore to scoop the ice cream, Louis had admitted it would be a good place to take Harry. Things are settling between the two Alphas now that they’ve been freed from the confinement of crowded halls and classrooms. They’re not quite tackling each other on the field like they used to when practising footie, but a playful shove is no longer cause for violent retaliation. It’s progress. 

Louis’ crunching on a stupid amount of waffle cone he had to stuff in his mouth because it was falling apart in his hands. There’s vanilla ice cream all over his hands and he almost starts choking because Harry’s not fairing much better, with the bottom of his own cone leaking strawberry cream down his wrists as he shoves the last pieces into his bulging cheeks. They snicker over their mouthfuls as much as they can when they catch the mess each other is in, attempting not to choke on the harsh edges of the cones. 

He smells it first. Just as he swallows down the last bite he catches the waft of something deep and earthy, something like Harry. It’s odd to have smelled it when he’s so far away, not pressed close to the hairline where Harry’s strongest. But they're both sweating in the sun, the excuse for their cold sweet treat in the first place, so perhaps the glistening sweat that beads Harry’s forehead and back of his neck is the culprit. 

Prickling starts up under Louis’ skin. He shrugs his shirt around in an attempt to improve airflow, like it’ll help the rush of heat that’s making him a little dizzy as they walk hand in hand towards Harry’s place. 

There are no rules today. No schedule to adhere to with parents gone to work and siblings off on their own daily adventures, leaving Louis and Harry to be wherever they like together. Or wherever the public transport and Louis’ skateboard will take them. At first he thinks that must be it. The excitement of having Harry all to himself for a few more days before school starts up, a house to themselves and a probable repeat of the heavy snogging sessions they’ve been indulging in. 

That must be the reason Louis’ palms are clammy and his mind can’t focus on the ground in front of him and there are needles along his entire body rubbing his nerves to hyperawareness. Harry tugs his hand a little, but his knowing smile dips in the corners when Louis struggles to return it, nearly panting in the heat. Fuck. It’s really hot out today. He should have drank more water, is what it is. 

By the time they stumble in the doorway of Harry’s house Louis can barely stand, let alone walk straight. Harry’s frown deepens as he watches Louis lean against the wall for much needed support. 

“What’s happening, Lou?”

“I think…” _Think,_ God, what the fuck does he think? Sweaty palms. Rapid heartbeat. Heightened sense of smell. He’s either Spiderman or - “I think it’s a rut.”

His rut. He’s going into it. And they’re courting, which means… 

“Oh.” Harry’s face flushes. 

Does he feel it already? How long has Louis felt like this, an hour? Maybe more? Would it have been enough to set off Harry’s heat by now? The thought alone drives Louis mad, his lower stomach clenching in a strong wave of desire. His hand grips the doorway so tightly he’s certain there’ll be indents under his fingers. 

“Do you still… ?”

Louis grimaces through the waves of it now. If Harry says no they’ll have to call his parents, like, _now._ Already he knows it’ll be too hard to pull himself away on sheer willpower alone, and it’ll be damn embarrassing for his mother to drag him away from humping Harry’s leg, but Louis'll do it if Harry says to. 

They spoke about it earlier, once they got settled in their relationship and the newness had worn off into a comfortable trust that allowed them to speak about anything. Everyone learned in health class how an annual heat or rut set off a domino response when a couple were courting or mated, so it was obviously something they were going to have to deal with at some point. They’d both agreed to go through it together, nervous but excited by the idea of being with someone through it for the first time. That was weeks ago. If Harry has any doubts about it Louis won’t hold it against him, but he needs to know _right the fuck now._

It doesn’t seem to be the case because Harry licks his cherry lips with a hazy glint in his eye Louis only gets to see an hour into heavy petting sessions that have left them both breathless and aching. 

“Yeah, come on, yeah,” Harry tugs Louis’ shirt and shoves him towards the stairs, both of them tripping up in their haste to get to Harry’s bedroom. 

Louis’ body seems to have realised what’s going to happen and he’s throbbing in tight jeans the instant he crosses the threshold into Harry’s room. He tosses his shirt into a corner, having tugged it off on the journey there, and starts frantically working on his jeans. God shitting fuckity fuck, why are these things so bloody hard to undo when all he needs right now is- yes, Harry’s hands covering his own to take over, working the button and zip open until Louis’ jeans are yanked to his ankles and they both groan at the sight of Louis’ cock obscenely tenting his pants. 

Harry tosses his own shirt out of the way, knocking Louis breathless at the miles of smooth skin. They dance awkwardly out of their jeans and socks and pants and then it’s the two of them, flushed and naked and so fucking hard it hurts. There’s no time to be awkward about it, Louis’ brain too muddled to hold an ounce of self-consciousness he’s used to having anytime they’ve ever gotten close to something further than kissing. 

Harry is a dream. 

He goes pliant beneath Louis’ hands, skin fever warm and flushed a delicate pink. He melts onto the bed as Louis’ hands on his waist lead him there. Louis stands at the edge of the mattress between his sprawled legs. The light catches the glint of wetness trailing down Harry’s thighs and Louis’ hands smooth up their creamy expanse to meet it. He collects slick on his finger and watches, mesmerised, as Harry’s lips part easily to accept it. 

“Good omega,” the words roll unbidden from Louis' mouth. Natural. Like the tug in his gut pulling him closer to Harry, until he’s leaning over him and pressing their chests together so they share the rhythm of each breath. 

Louis was wrong before, when he thought his self consciousness had vanished, because now that he’s here between Harry’s legs everything seems so startlingly vibrant the only way a shock of arriving in a moment you weren’t fully prepared for can be. His hands begin to shake. Harry’s gentle fingers smother his, twining together so they’re steady on his skin. 

“You’re the sun, Lou,” Harry murmurs with a whine hinting behind his words, the begining force of his heat no doubt making it hard for him to keep calm beneath Louis, but he does because he’s always been so strong. His lips brush the shell of Louis’ ear. “You bring me warmth.”

Harry’s said this repeatedly over the months they’ve been together, and yet it sounds like the first every time the words come from his mouth. Harry may not be perfect, but he’s damn well perfect for Louis. If he’s the sun, then Harry is his moon, and together their bodies discover how to push and pull the tides.

**Author's Note:**

> Bet you can’t guess what song this is based on ;) 
> 
> ♡ Find the sharable/likeable post on my [tumblr](https://zanniscaramouche.tumblr.com/)♡ 
> 
> xx Thanks for reading! This was my first attempt at abo so please let me know what you thought! xx


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